Robin: School Days
by MermaidGirl34
Summary: Being a teenage superhero isn't easy, as Dick Grayson very well knows. Keeping up with school work, staying awake in class, and keeping his identity a secret makes school a whole lot harder. This is the story of the 1st Robin in his middle school years.
1. Why I Hate School

I hate school.

I mean, it's bad enoughthat I have to sit through two hours of History class learning about how ancient Greeks thought watching two Gladiators killing each other, or being killed by man-eating animals was cool, (which is kind of gross and stupid to begin with,) but I have to sit through it with aching bones, a throbbing arm, several cuts, and a splitting headache.

Not that that's not normalfor me, anyway.

Sighing, I tuned out my history teachers lecture, and stared out the window, ignoring the pain I was feeling. It really wasn't _that_ bad, compared to some injuries I had gotten in the past playing hero next to Batman as Robin, the Boy Wonder. I seriously could have gotten a whole lot worse last night fighting Mr. Freeze.

Still, I ache all over.

And that's _not _fun.

I really don't know how Bruce does it. Fight crime all night, get only about three hours of sleep, and then get up to go to work at Wayne Enterprises as the rich playboy millionaire, looking like he didn't have a care in the world, let alone tired or injured, or _hungry_. (He never really _does _bother to eat at all.) I try to do that too, (well, I _do _eat though,) but it's not as easy as it looks. Tiredness and pain sort of get the best of me, and I tend to sleep walk through most of school.

"Mr. Grayson…"

I wonder how Barbarafeels doing all this. She's in eighth grade, and I'm in sixth, but she must still feel similar to me, right? Being Batgirl behind her dad's back must be hard…

"Mr. Grayson."

Not to mention her dad is Commissioner_, _and she has to answer the Batsignal with us and hide who she really is from him…

"MR. GRAYSON!"

I snapped out of my daydream to find my history teacher practically in my face. "Mr. Grayson," he growled. "Now that I have _finally _captured your attention, would you mind sharing with the class what is so interesting out the window that you decided not to _bother_ answering my question that I asked you _three times?"_

I flushed, and someone snickered. "Um…" I started to say, but at that moment, the bell rang, signaling the end of class. Before the teacher could move, I grabbed my things and made a beeline for the door where the rest of the class was already filing out. "Saved by the bell!" I yelled back to the teacher, before slamming the door shut.

As I walked to lunch, (which seemed like it could _never _come,) my thoughts once again drifted over to Babs. Older, tall, smart, fast, flexible…not to mention extremely _hot…_ Sighing, I reached the lunch line, and grabbed a tray.

"What would you like?" One of the lunch ladies asked me.

"Something _hot_…" I mumbled, still half in my daydream. The lunch lady gave me a long look, before scooping a big glob of "Hot Meat Surprise" onto my tray.

_That _got my attention.

Screwing up my face, I looked at the lady. "Um…can I have something else?" I asked, eyeing the Surprise like it was a bomb about to explode.

"Sorry, Charlie." The lady said, smirking. "You asked for somethin' hot, I _gave _you somethin' hot. Now keep movin', you're holding up the line!"

Cursing the lunch staff under my breath, I left the line and looked around for a place to sit. Practically every seat was taken, except for one table near the back. The Gang Table.

In Bristol Middle School, you learn fast _never _to ask if you can sit at that table.

Really all 'The Gang Table" was was a place where all the druggies and burly eighth graders hung out. Nothing Robin couldn't take out with a few well-aimed kicks and a few uppercuts. But that was the type of trouble that Dick Grayson's personality stayed clear of, so I did. But if I ever met any of those thugs on the street after nightfall…well, let's just say they wouldn't be so lucky.

As I scanned for an empty spot somewhere in the lunchroom, it was a pleasant surprise to hear someone calling my name to my left.

"Hey, Grayson!" the female voice yelled out. "Over here!"

I turned to see the smiling face and red hair of Barbara Gordon, patting an empty seat beside her. Smiling, I walked over to her, and put my tray down on the table.

_"All right, Grayson," _I thought to myself. _"Keep your cool. Don't make a fool of yourself."_

"Hey Barbara!" I greeted her as I sat down. "Thanks for helping me find a seat."

Barbara smiled. Her beautiful, radiant smile. "No prob," she said. "So how's life as a puny sixth grader?"

She punched me playfully in the arm, and I winced. That happened to be _right_ where I had landed when Mr. Freeze threw me through a window last night…

"Same as usual," I answered Babs tightly, with as much as a normal voice as I could muster. "Boring, dull, uninteresting. Almost got myself another detention."

I thought I sounded pretty good. Slick, cool, and most definitley not in pain. But Babs nonetheless noticed my wince, and seemed to realize why. She quickly mouthed "Sorry!" before one of her eighth grade friends, Jenny, spoke.

"Hey Grayson," she said. "What's it like being the son of a playboy millionaire?"

Her question caught me off guard. Well, yeah, I get that question a lot, but I hardly knew Jenny, and she was an eighth grader. And besides Babs, eighth graders _never _talk to sixth graders. "Um, fine." I said lamely. "Bruce is, uh, really dedicated to his work at Waynetech and all, and uh, he isn't around much."

Jenny snorted. " 'Really dedicated to his work'?" She sneered. "Yeah right. More like trying to find himself another rich chick to date, and then dump."

Some of the girls snickered. "So Mr. Wayne's not around much, hm?" A blonde girl that I didn't know the name of asked before I could say anything. "No time for little Dicky Wicky?"

I didn't know what to say. My first reaction was anger, and the urge to punch this chick in the face, but I pushed that down. The next was the feeling that I should stand up for Bruce. Sure, he wasn't around much, but it wasn't completely his fault. He's got work plus protecting a whole city on his shoulders, and since he's a much better detective than I am, he usually does most of the real sleuthing. But on the other hand…I wish he were there for me more. He almost never asks me how school's going; let alone how my grades are doing. Heck, I'm flunking every class because being Robin takes up all my studying time!

As I tried to figure out what to say, Barbara_, good old Barbara, _saved my hide. "Leave him alone guys," she said. "It isn't his fault Mr. Wayne is never around. Don't be such jerks."

The other girls looked like they wanted to harass me some more, but they shut up. For once, I was glad Barbara is one of the most popular girls in school. I gave her a quick, grateful smile before looking down at my tray. I had no intention of eating the goop, so when the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, I threw it out. Who knows what they might _put _in that stuff?

As I turned to leave the lunchroom, I noticed Barbara had hung back. Smiling, I joined her at the end of the line of kids leaving the lunchroom. "Um, thanks for standing up for me back there," I said awkwardly.

Barbara smiled one of her radiant smiles. "It was nothing," she said kindly. "They shouldn't have been making fun of you like that. Sorry they were so nasty."

"It's fine," I said, waving the apology away. "I just…you know. Didn't know how to respond…truthfully."

Barbara nodded knowingly. "How are you holding up from last night?" she asked, her voice dropping to a near whisper, so only I could hear.

"Okay," I said. "I ache all over, but that's nothing new. Whadda 'bout you?"

She shrugged. "Couple bruises and scrapes. Nothing major. It wasn't _me_ who was thrown through a window."

I blushed, and was about to retort when I heard my best friend, Carl, call my name. "Hey Dick! Over here buddy!"

I turned to see the curly blond kid with his usual Gotham Knights jersey on standing in the doorway to my Science classroom, waving widely at me. I smiled, and said a quick "See ya!" to Babs, who returned it before walking off towards her next class, Geometry. I quickly joined Carl, and we sat down together at our Science table. I noticed three test tubes, and a bin of lab goggles. Uh-oh. Experiment. Great.

Carl didn't seem worried. He was too busy making fun of Barbara and me.

"Barbara and Dicky, sitting in a tree," he sang in a high-pitched, girly voice.

"Shut up," I muttered, punching him in the arm.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

" Shut up!" I hissed, urgent this time. Someone might hear, and that would lower my reputation even more. He stopped and gave me that goofy grin he always wears. I shook my head at him. "I don't know why I deal with you," I said. He shrugged, and then started pestering me with questions.

"Do you wanna come over to my house after school? Play video games?" he asked hopefully.

Regretfully, I shook my head. "I have to catch up with my homework," I said lamely. "I need to pull up my grades, or I'm sunk."

"Awwww man! Bummer," Carl said, giving me his best-disappointed face, which quickly turned to a thrilled one when an idea hit him. "Heeyyy, why don't you come over to my house so we can study together!"

I looked at him, and laughed. "Me? Study with _you?_" Carl's grades were worse than _mine_. "I don't think so."

But Carl's face was dead serious. "I mean it, man," he said. "You can come over, and we'll do our homework together. I can do it, I just usually choose not to."

I looked at him, long and hard.

"We might take a break, now and then to kill some aliens…but all and all, we'll still get the work done," Carl gushed.

I hesitated. It would be nice to spend some time with Carl outside of school…and I'm sure Alfred wouldn't object.

"I…guess I could," I said finally. "For a little bit. I'd have to ask Al."

"Al…oh, right," Carl said, momentarily forgetting who Al was. "The butler."

I blushed, since most kids don't have butlers, but Carl wasn't fazed. In fact, he looked even more excited.

"You could have Alfred drive us to my house in your limo!" he cried. "And then we can study…and play video games…and maybe even make it into a sleepover!"

"NO!" I shouted before I could stop myself.

Carl looked surprised, and hurt. "Why not?"

"Um, well, I can't have a sleepover," I said hurriedly.

Carl looked at me. "Why not?" he asked, slowly this time.

_Think of something. Think of something! _

"Because, uh, I have to go to a party. With Bruce," I covered quickly.

Carl looked at my face with suspicion. "A party?" he repeated.

_Don't ask what party. PLEASE don't ask which party!_

"Do you have to wear a monkey suit?" he laughed.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Uh, yeah," I said. "Yeah I do."

Carl made a face. "Ewwww, HA!"

I grimaced, and nodded, happy to play along and throw Carl off.

"I'll, uh, have to be back home by six," I told him. "But I should be able to play-uh, I mean, study, until then."

Carl's face lit up. "Great!" he said, and then hesitated before asking, "Can we still ride in the limo?"

I smiled. "We'll see."

Just then, the teacher took to the front of the class, explaining our newest experiment, and we were forced to turn our attention to him. But nonetheless, I was smiling. I was going over to Carl's! I had never gone to any of my friend's houses before, because my job of looking over the city demanded so much time. Even though I had to go on patrol at six, (thank God Carl believed my lie about the party!) and I couldn't sleep over, it would still be fun. It gave me a chance to catch up on my schoolwork, _plus _play some video games. Could life get any better?

For once, things were starting to look up.

…but I still hate school.


	2. For Better Or For Worse

I thought the bell that signaled the end of the school day would never ring. It certainly seemed like it wouldn't. But it did, and I raced out of Math class at full speed. I knew Alfred would already be there to pick me up, since he always had to be _exactly _on time to everything. It's kinda creepy how efficient he is sometimes.

Sure enough, as I pushed my way through the crowd of happily chatting students, I spotted Al right a way. He was first in the line of cars waiting to pick up their kids in Bruce's usual shiny black limousine.

I had many people jealous of that limo. Every time I get picked up in it, (which is most times,) two things always happen. One, people glare at me, and stick their tongues out at me. The second is that some people are extremely nice to me, giving me stuff, and saying nice things so that I might give them a ride.

Both are annoying.

But this time I ignored everything, not even stopping to politely refuse test answers, (which I took sometimes,) or pieces of candy. I hopped into the front seat of the limo next to Al with a big smile on my face.

"Hey Al," I said, buckling myself in.

"Good afternoon, Master Richard," Alfred greeted me in his usual formal way. "You seem to be in high spirits today."

I smiled. "You bet I am," I replied. "Guess what?"

Alfred looked at me. "I have no idea. May I ask what?"

My smile grew, if possible, wider. "Carl asked me if I wanted to come over to his house after school to play – er - do our homework together," I gushed. "Can I go?"

Alfred considered this for a moment, as we pulled out of the school parking lot.

"I would have to ask Master Bruce when we return to the mansion," he consented finally. "It is not mine to decide."

I gave him a look. "You really expect me to believe that Bruce is even _home _yet?" I asked disbelievingly. "He barely even makes it back before dinner!"

Alfred considered this. "You do have a point," he agreed slowly. He thought for a moment before saying, "I believe it would be alright with Master Bruce as long as you're back by six for your…late night prowling."

I beamed and gave him a hug. "You're the best Al!"

"I do try, Master Richard," Al sighed. "I do try. Would you like me to make full course to Mister Carl's house then?"

"Yes, please," I said, still smiling. Everything was working out just as I wanted it to.

When we neared Carl's house, I fished my cell out of my backpack. Technically, it wasn't really a cell phone. It was half regular cell phone, half high-tech Bat communicator, designed specially by Wayne Tech. It could switch from cell phone mode to Bat communicator with a click of a hidden button. It even had a special caller ID that told me if Batman or Bruce Wayne was calling me. Batgirl or Barbara Gordon. That way, I would know if I should answer as Robin, or Dick Grayson.

This time, when I used it, I simply used the regular cell phone mode and dialed Carl's number. It rang for a bit, before Carl answered it with his usual, "Hey man! What's up?" I could hear the sounds of kids chattering, and the roaring of an engine, so I figured he was still on the bus.

"Hey Carl!" I greeted him enthusiastically. "Guess what? I asked Al, and he said it's okay!"

"Alright!" Carl whooped, and then he quieted down. I heard the bus driver yelling at him clearly through the phone. "Sorry!" Carl yelled back, before getting back to me in hushed tones. "Okay, so when can you get to my house?"

"In about another minute," I rushed, smiling. "I'm almost there."

"Awesome!" Carl exclaimed, though not as loud this time. "It's almost my stop. See ya in a minute!"

"See ya!" I said, and hung up beaming.

"I take it things are going as you wished, Master Richard?" Alfred inferred.

"Oh yeah," I said. "Things are going _just _as I want them to."

Literally a minute later, we pulled up in front of Carl's house, where the bus was just turning the corner. After a moment, the doors opened on the yellow "Twinkie" bus, as I call them, (because it's an old fashion one with a flat front, which makes it look like a giant Twinkie,) and Carl jumped out, followed by a few other kids. I stepped out of the limo, and ran up to him.

"Dick, my man!" Carl laughed, and we did our secret handshake that we came up with in fifth grade. He waved towards his house."C'mon! Let's go in!"

I nodded enthusiastically, but before we could go, Alfred stepped out of the limo. "Master Richard!" he called. "Should I come and pick you up at six o'clock then?"

I opened my mouth to yell back, 'Yes, that's fine!' but then a thought hit me. Wayne Manor was just over the hill a couple blocks down from here. I could easily walk home when it neared six. Plus, it would show more responsibility, and maybe Bruce would let me 'study' with Carl more often!

"No, it's okay Al!" I yelled. "I can walk home! It's close enough!"

Alfred gave me a searching look. "Are you sure, sir?" he asked.

I nodded. "It's fine," I confirmed.

"Very good, then," Al said in his normal British manner. "I shall see you then, sir."

And with that, he got back in the limo and drove away.

I turned back to Carl, who was smiling. "So what first?" he asked. "Homework, or Halo 3?"

I smirked. "Which ever you prefer," I said slyly. And without as second thought, we raced into the house and made straight for the basement and the PlayStation.

After about an hour of playing video games, (mostly Halo 3, which was awesome,) we decided we had to do a _little _bit of studying. So we pulled out our textbooks and raced through our homework. Math was easy. We tried the problem, and if we didn't get it, we just put so much random equations in the space provided so that the answer was practically unreadable and the teacher would have to ask us what we wrote. And usually she asks these things _after _we go over the answers, so I won't be too hard to say the right answer.

Then came the harder part. We had a History test tomorrow, and we needed to study. There was no way we could do what we did on our math homework for this. We needed to _actually _study. So the two of us read through the chapter in our textbooks, which was on the Battle of Fort Donaldson in the Civil War.

It was incredibly boring.

Suddenly, Carl started laughing. I looked at him, confused. "What's so funny?"

Carl grinned in his weird way. "I know how we can remember the names in this battle," he said excitedly. "_And_ make it fun!"

That got my attention.

"How?" I asked.

"Here," Carl said, grabbing a blank sheet of notebook paper and pencil and scribbling some stuff on it. When he was done, he showed it to me. "We them like _this,_" he said, shaking the paper. I read it quickly.

Fort Donaldson - Fort McDonalds

Cumberland River - Cucumber River

I laughed so hard I almost fell out of my chair. Brilliant!

So we did what he said. We gave every important thing in the battle a funny name to remember it by. And it actually worked! By the time we had went through the whole chapter, giving everything a name, we actually understood the battle and how it was fought. Every teacher should teach like this!

Once we felt we had done enough work for the night, we packed up our book, and hightailed back to the PlayStation. I got so entranced in playing the game that I soon stopped glancing at my watch. It was only five o'clock, I had plenty of time…just another twenty minutes…

Sometime later, I checked my watch again.

6:45 PM

My heart plummeted and my blood turned to ice. I started to panic internally, all thoughts of the video game going skyward. Those numbers couldn't be right…my watch is off…it _can't _be six forty-five yet…

After a moment of staring at my watch in horror, Carl seemed to notice something was wrong. "What's up, man?" he asked, turning to me. "I just killed you three times and you just stoo-"

He looked at my watch. "Ooooo."

That got me out of my trance. Bruce was going to _kill _me! I catapulted up,and grabbed my backpack.

"Ihavetogo!" I said in a rush. "I'mlateforpatro-theparty!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay man!" Carl exclaimed, getting up and grabbing my arm. "My mom can call Alfred, or Mr. Wayne! She can explain to them that we lost track of time, and you won't get in trouble! Bruce will understand…"

I shook my head. He didn't get it. There was no way Bruce was going to understand why I was late for patrol. N-O W-A-Y. I was done for, and I needed to get home and into my Robin costume _now _if I had any chance of redeeming myself.

"No, I can handle it," I told Carl calmly. "I'll talk to Bruce. But I have to get home _now! _I'm already late as it is!"

Carl nodded and let go. "See you at school tomorrow buddy!" he called after me,as I raced out the door.

"Bye!" I yelled back. I waited for him to close the door before racing into an ally, and pulling out my grappling gun. I had it hidden in a secret pouch in my backpack for…emergencies. Unfortunately, I didn't have my Robin costume with me though, otherwise I'd change into it, right here, right now. But it was still in the Batcave, where Al had been mending it after my fight last night.

All the reason to get back home _fast. _

And not much is faster than Robin, the Boy Wonder and a grappling gun, swinging from building to building at the speed of light. I pulled my sweatshirt's hood over my head and tide it a tight as I could, so no one who saw me could identify me at first glance and took off into the night.

I reached Wayne Manor in a record time of two and a half minutes, though it felt like eternity. I rushed into the manor, past Alfred and into the Batcave, grabbing my newly repaired uniform and beginning to change into it madly. About half way through, when I was quickly stuffing on my 'pixy boots' after my 'Robin underwear' as Barbara called them, Alfred finally made it down.

"Master Richard, where _have _you been?" he asked. "Master Bruce had to leave without you, and I can assure you he was most unhappy."

"I can imagine," I muttered as I fastened on my cape and clicked my utility belt in place.

I stuffed my mask on and turned to Alfred. "How mad was he?" I asked after a moments hesitation.

"You do not want to know, sir," Alfred said gravely.

I grimaced. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Not yet, Master Richard," Al said, sighing. "But I believe close to it."

I winced. I am _sooooo _dead.

"You'd better get going," Al suggested. "You're already late as it is."

I nodded slowly, knowing it was my death sentence, and hopped onto my Batcycle, speeding at top speed out of the cave.

I looked at my cell phone, now Bat communicator, and looked for Bruce's homing signal. He was in Wayne Tower. Or on top of it, to be exact. I didn't want to go to him, but I knew I had to get this over with, so I grit my teeth and drove in the direction of Wayne Tower.

I got there faster than I would have liked. A few more minutes to prepare myself for what was coming would be helpful. But before I knew it, I was standing on top of the Wayne Tower, and there he was.

He was squatting on the rail, his cape billowing in the wind. He said nothing, but I knew perfectly well that he knew I was there.

I don't think I've ever been more frightened in my life.

I cleared my throat. "Um…hey…Batman…" I said awkwardly.

_"Where have you been?"_ Bruce asked in his most deadly voice, each word a knife in my heart.

"Uh…at - at Carl's," I stuttered.

Bruce still hadn't turned around. "Carl's?" he echoed in a growl. "Your friend from school?"

"Um, yeah," I answered, kneading my gloves nervously. _Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap._

"What were you doingthere?" Batman asked, his voice still low and deadly.

"Uh…studying," I said quickly. "And, uh…playing some video games." I muttered the last words so softly that they were barely audible, but it was enough to make Bruce explode. He wiped around, his eyes reduced to slits.

**"YOU'RE LATE FOR PATROL BECAUSE YOU WERE PLAYING VIDEO GAMES WITH YOUR FRIENDS?" **he exploded. **"VIDEO GAMES?"**

I shrunk away like a mouse from a cat. I had never _seen _him this angry. And I've seen him plenty angry.

**"INNOCENT PEOPLE MIGHT HAVE BEEN **_**KILLLED **_**IN YOUR ABSENSE!" **Bruce raged. **"AND YOU'Re PLAYING **_**VIDEO GAMES?" **_

His words echoed around me…and right there, then, something inside me snapped.

"It's not like I was doing _nothing_!" I yelled at him. "We were studying for a test tomorrow! I WAS TRYING TO PULL UP MY GRADES!"

**"I DON"T CARE ABOUT YOUR GRADES!" **Bruce bellowed. **"I CARE ABOUT ALL THE INNOCENT PEOPLE WHO MIGHT **_**DIE**_**IN YOUR ABSENSE! AND IF YOU CAN'T LIVE UP TO THOSE RESPONSIBILTIES THAN YOU SHOULDN'T BE ROBIN!"**

It was like a punch in the gut.

"You…you don't care at all, do you?" I chocked, tears welling up behind my mask. "All you care about is what I do as Robin! How many people I save, how many criminals I catch, how much I contribute to your impossible goal!"

"I thought that's what you wanted," Bruce growled. "To help me in that goal."

"I do Bruce!" I screamed, my voice cracking now, and I hated myself for sounding like such a wimp. "I love being Robin! And I _love _what I do! But I care about my life too! I might not have up until this point, but I do know. I _care _about how I do in school. I _care _about my grades, Bruce!" I sniffed. "Do you even know what my grades are right now?"

Bruce said nothing.

"D's!" I yelled at him. "All D's, and two F's! And Carl's are worse! I'm _flunking _school, Bruce, and you don't even care! And do you know _why _I'm flunking?"

I looked at him, straight in his white slits for eyes, and I knew he knew the answer. But I said it anyway.

"Because of _you,_" I snarled at him. "Because you give me no time to study, no time to do my homework, no time to even _try _to do well in school!"

I was crying now. My mask was droopy and wet from my tears. "All I wanted was some time," I chocked. "Some time to spend with my friend. Some time to at least spend _some _time with him, even though I had to deny his offers for a sleepover _every time_. Deny it because of my commitment to _you, _Bruce! Do you know how hard that is? Do you know how hard it is to have to turn down your best friend over and over again, with all these petty lies, just so I can make _you _happy?"

I glared at him, but he still said nothing. "You don't get it," I snapped. "How hard it for me to do all this .Being Robin, keeping up in school, and still being a good friend. Truthfully…truthfully I don't see how Barbara can handle it. Because…because I don't think I can take much more."

And then I broke down and cried.

I hated myself for breaking down in front of him like this, but the pain of all the pressure I have been under for the past few months was too much. I can't handle all this anymore. It's too much, and Bruce knows that. But all he does is stand there. Stand there like he is now, and do nothing. No help at all. And right then, looking at his stiff, emotionless figure above me, I felt like I no longer knew him. This was no longer the kind man who took me in when my parents were murdered. This wasn't the man I have so long admired, making me want to be just like him. No, this wasn't him. This was the cold, dark, and ruthless Batman. And I didn't know him anymore.

I lay there, crying, until I could cry no more. Then I got up, wiped my tears, and fixed my mask. And I looked straight into those white slits again. Cold. Unwelcoming.

"I'm going to patrol the East End," I said icily.

And with that, I pulled out my grappling gun and jumped off the building.

And I didn't look back.


	3. The Tutor

**(A/N: All righty. I know I haven't updated in a while, so I'm sorry for that. I have a lot to juggle, if you know what I mean. Anyway, thank you sooo much to all who have reviewed! Since I have surpassed five reviews, and have seven, I shall finish this story. Kudos to Tricia, for bringing up a very, very good point that I forgot to mention. You might have noticed that I stretched Babs's age a little. She's really supposed to be much older than Richard, but I wanted them to be at least in the same school, and I wanted Dick to be in Middle School. So the best I could do was put Dick in sixth, and Babs in eighth. Sorry that I didn't mention that earlier, I should have put an A/N up about it. As for Tricia's second point, yes, Bruce probably would have made Dick keep his grades up. He's so controlling, that he probably would. But part of me always wondered how Batman could keep track of them, with all his work as Batman and Bruce Wayne, and how Dick could even keep up with them with all his extra vigilante work pulling him down. There wasn't a whole lot of evidence on the subject that I could pilfer from the comics, so I went with what I had. So really, this is a story of Dick's Middle School years if he **_**didn't **_**keep his grades up, plus other upcoming events. Just to clarify. But thanks so much for the question's Tricia! I adore questions, especially hard ones, because than I get to answer them in detail and I love that, and I can edit anything that you guys noticed that I missed. So please ask questions! Try to stump me! And feel free to flame! I need the constructive criticism! This is way too long of an A/N! I should stop now! All right, stopping! ON WITH THE STORY! XD)**

I woke up the next morning in a mood.

Somehow, I wasn't surprised. My eyes were all crusty from crying and lack of sleep and my muscles ached and cried for deliverance. I had patrolled all night at the East End of Gotham in a rage, taking out every bit of my frustration, annoyance and plain, furious anger at Batman, school, and the world on all the petty thief's and lowlife criminals I encountered. I might have been _slightly_ too harsh on some of them, (I left one crying for his mommy with a broken nose,) but they should have thought about that _before _they went and robbed the bank. All in all, it was a miracle that some big time metahuman villain or an Arkham escapee didn't show their face. I doubt I would have been able to concentrate and channel my anger in a way I could actually take down someone more powerful than an average crook. At least not in the rage I was in.

I returned home early on purpose. I wanted to avoid Bruce, and did so without much of a problem. Al was wise enough not to ask how it went, since my glowering was answer enough. I went straight to bed; lying there and fuming for three hours until I heard Bruce finally come up the stairs.

He stopped in front of my door. I held my breath, petrified that he would open it and come in, but also sort of wanting him to. I wanted him to apologize…but I also didn't ever want to see his face again. I could see his black boots through the crack under the door, the tips of his cape prodding around them and waving slightly in the air-conditioned building. He must have stood there for less than a minute, though it felt like eternity before he finally walked away.

Thinking back to it now, I wondered why he did that. Does he care? Does he just not know how to express his inner feelings with all his habits and dark ways? It seems likely. But that's not enough. I'm not a tool. I'm not something that can be shunted around, used like a dumb mull and be shunned emotionally. I'm not his little servant, a player in his endless game of chess. No. I won't be that. And it's time that he saw that, and stopped playing all high and mighty! He's not perfect. Neither am I. And if he has trouble expressing any feelings of affection that he still might have for me buried deep down under his body armor, that's his problem.

Not mine.

I sighed and glanced at the clock. Grr. Time to get ready for school. Gotta stop brooding, and get my game face on.

After throwing on a pair of jeans and a random t-shirt that I didn't even glance at, I made my way slowly down the immense staircase that took up much of Wayne Manor. I decided to actually take the stairs instead of using my normal route down the banister. I just wasn't in the mood for it today.

I wasn't surprised at all to find that Bruce wasn't present. Al had my breakfast ready, a plate heaped high with eggs and bacon and toast. A bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon sugar—my favorite—rested next to it. As I sat down at the table—which could actually seat up to sixteen—Al completed the meal with a large glass of apple juice, filled to the brim. I mumbled a 'thank you' and started to shovel oatmeal into my mouth rapidly.

To my surprise, Alfred sat down next to me.

Uh-oh.

"Master Bruce was most upset about what happened last night," he said quietly.

I grimaced, putting another heaping mouthful of oatmeal in my mouth to avoid responding.

"He told me his version of things…briefly, but I'm sure that that was not the whole thing," he murmured, staring at me gravelly. "However, no matter how much you 'screwed up', I do believe that you were correct."

I stopped eating, spoon in the air. What did he say?

"Master Bruce expects much of you," Al went on. "Too much for a boy of your age, if you ask me. Nevertheless, you've risen up to the challenge, and have done exceptionally well. Although he does not show it, I believe Master Bruce is very proud of you. And though you might not believe it, he does love you, Richard. Very very much so. He does care."

He sighed. "I just do not think he knows quite how to tell you. He spends so much time in the darkness…I sometimes worry that he'll forget how to be a man. To feel. To _express_ his feelings. I think sometimes his work strips that of him, and I dearly hope that that does not happen to you. I believe your youth has allowed you to bounce back thus far, but I'm not sure how long that will last."

He paused, looking troubled. I just stared at him, dumbfounded. I knew Bruce had turmoil, but what Alfred was saying…what he was hinting at…was more than I had ever imagined. Al has known the Dark Knight far longer than I have. He's seen the darkness that has gripped my mentor.

And at that moment, for the first time, I was scared of when it might grip me.

But before I could think about it more, Alfred continued. "As for your grades…" he said. "They certainly have slipped. And I think you're right in saying that it is due to your vigilante activities, more than the lack of paying attention in class, though that might have something to do with it. I also think Master Bruce hasn't been giving you enough time to study and do your homework, as well as be with your friends. To him, being Robin should take up all your time and I don't think he sees just how big your predicament is."

He smiled slightly. "So that's why I'm saying this now. Maybe your outburst last night wasn't all for naught. Maybe this will finally let him see your problem, and do something to help it. So don't, as they say, 'beat yourself up' over it."

Despite myself, I smiled. Somehow, Alfred always knows just what do say and when to say it. "Thanks Al," I said, and I gave him a big hug.

Alfred smiled. "You're welcome, Master Richard," he said graciously. "Now go get your backpack. It's already ready in the hall. I don't want you to be late for school."

After Alfred's speech, I didn't feel so bad, and school wasn't as horrible as I had first thought it would be when I woke up. As I walked into Homeroom, I was waved down by Carl, who looked genuinely worried about me.

"So…how bad was it?" he asked as I sat down.

I grimaced. "Bad."

"Ooooo," Carl murmured, giving me his 'sorry man' look. "Big daddy smack down."

"You have no idea," I muttered, getting my books out for History.

After that, we didn't talk about it. Carl apologized considerably for making me late, but I waved it away. It wasn't his fault. It was mine, and I wasn't about to let him take responsibility for it. From then on, we simply didn't discuss it. School went on as normal, and I felt like I did fairly well on the History exam. The funny names certainly helped me remember the facts.

By the time school got out, I was in a fairly good mood. Alfred wasn't here yet, which was odd, since he's always on time, and neither was Carl's mom, so we sat on one of the benches outside the main entrance and chatted. It felt good to talk to him outside of the school atmosphere. Everything seemed fresh and hopeful.

Until my phone went off.

At first, the ringtone didn't register. I hadn't heard it in so long. It was Beethoven, and went _duh duh duh dun, duh duh duh dun_ over and over again. As the sound finally registered in my brain, I tried to remember whom I had that ringtone set for. I had all my tones set for specific people that called.

And then I remembered.

And instantly went pale.

Slowly, I inched the cell phone out of my pants pocket and looked at the blue screen. The caller ID was flashing across it in big, bold letters. The name I had been dreading.

**Bruce Wayne**

I gulped, and Carl peeked over my shoulder curiously. "Aw man," he gasped. "You're sunk. I thought you said he never calls you!"

"He doesn't," I mumbled faintly, before pressing the receive button and putting the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I said in the most normal voice I could possible muster in the spur of the moment.

"Dick." Bruce's voice cut through the phone crisp and clear. It was a mix of Batman and billionaire, despite the "Bruce Wayne" caller ID. Good sign? Or bad sign? Too early to tell.

"Hey," I said casually, reminding myself that I was in public. "Um…what's up?"

There was a slight pause on the other end. Then, "I'm going to pick you up at school today."

I almost dropped the phone in shock. Say _what? _

"Wh-what did you say?" I asked weakly. Bruce has _never _picked me up from school before!

"Carl too. I've already talked to his mother," Bruce said in a rush. I could tell he was uncomfortable telling me this. It was out of his character. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

He disconnected.

I must have stood there for at least a full minute, listening to the dial tone, completely and utterly in shock. Carl was staring at me, a look of concern and amusement on his face. I must have look pretty stupid, standing there like some sort of cartoon character with my mouth hanging open. I quickly shut it and slipped my phone back into my pocket. I sat down hard on the bench.

Carl just stared at me. "What did he say?" he asked slowly.

"He…he said he's going to pick me up from school," I said faintly. "You too."

Carl's eyes widened. "_Seriously?" _he whispered, just as dumbfounded as me. He knew Bruce reputation too.

I nodded, still out of it. "He already talked to your mother," I added softly.

Carl sat back thoughtfully. "What do you think he has in mind?"

"I have no idea," I said truthfully. "But it looks like we're going to find out."

A couple minutes later, the limo drove up to the school. Dreamily, Carl and I got up and headed over to it. I opened the door, and there he was, in his normal smart suit and wearing his favorite designer shades. He nodded at the back seat. "Get in," he said simply.

We got in.

The moment the doors were closed, we took off. I'd seen Bruce drive the Batmobile as Batman, which could go _much _faster than the limousine, and we went slower than that. But he was still a reckless driver, and if he wasn't so rich, I have a bad feeling we'd have a speeding ticket by now.

Bruce was completely silent. I decided that silence was the best thing I could do too. Carl opened his mouth to say something, but I shushed him with a look. Best not to talk until we knew what were up against.

With the speed we were going at, it didn't take long to reach the manor. But the silence made it seem much longer.

As we pulled in through the gates, I heard Carl gasp. I realized he had never been to the manor before. Normally, Bruce forbids me from having friends over. Too many chances of our secret being discovered. He must never have seen a house like it. I hadn't either, until I moved in with Bruce.

We pulled into the driveway, and Bruce shut off the engine. He got out without a word, and Carl and I followed him into the house. Alfred met us at the threshold and took our bags. I gave him a 'what the heck is going on?' look, but Al's face betrayed nothing. Dang. Sworn to secrecy.

Bruce led the way through the mansion, destination unknown to me. Each hallway had a dozen options. Office? No. Pool? No. It was impossible to tell, so I finally gave up.

Carl was completely flabbergasted. Each hallway, each room, each suit of armor or even the carpeting was new and completely amazing to him. I couldn't blame him. The place is like a museum.

Finally, we stopped in front of a polished oak door. To my ever-rising confusion, I knew the room. This was Wayne Manor's library, the biggest in the whole mansion (there were several others.) What were we doing here?

We would find out soon enough. Hand on the doorknob, Bruce turned to us and spoke for the first time since we got in the car. "It has…come to my attention that you two are struggling with your grades at school," he said slowly. The words seemed to pain him. I felt my heart plummet. This was not going to be good.

And the next seven words were even worse.

"So I hired you two a tutor."

Death sentence. I felt like I was going to die, right there and then. A _tutor? _How could Bruce _do_ that? To me? To _Carl? _That was the lowest of lows. I glanced at Carl, and his face reflected exactly what I was feeling.

Alfred was wrong. Bruce wasn't helping the situation. He was making it _worse._

And then, Bruce opened the door.

I bit my lip, preparing myself for the fat old lady with the squinty eyes and huge glasses, holding a giant math book and saying "Hi sweeties!" in a high pitched, overly sugared voice.

But the person sitting in the chair in the middle of the room was not a fat old lady.

In fact, she wasn't even old.

And I think my jaw actually touched the ground.

"Hey," Barbara said, placing her book down gently on the table. "I hear you guys need a tutor."


	4. Bat Emergency

(A/N: So sorry I haven't updated in like, forever. Between all my stories and summer camps, I'm lucky to get the writing time I've got. Don't worry though, I have not abandoned this! Thanks to all who have reviewed! I never thought this fic would really ever be very popular so it was a pleasant surprise! Hope you all enjoy this chapter!)

"_Barbara?" _The name escaped my lips before I could stop myself. I blushed as I realized just how stupid I'd sounded, and quickly composed myself, though I was still trying to digest the idea that the girl I'd had a crush on since I'd met her was now my tutor.

Barbara smiled at me, enjoying my uncontrolled surprise. "Hello to you too, Handsome," she said, causing me to redden even further.

I will never understand girls.

"Y-you're our tutor?" Carl asked. He seemed as shocked as I was, staring at Barbara with wide eyes as if he couldn't believe the hot eighth grader was actually there.

"Yep," Babs said nonchalantly, like she did this kind of thing every day. Casually, she tucked a strand of shocking red hair behind her ear. "You seem surprised," she added, smirking, and Carl quickly closed his open mouth. Turning her attention to Bruce, she raised an eyebrow.

"Barbara will be your tutor for however long it takes you two to get your grades up and steady," Bruce explained, taking the cue from the redhead. "She'll help you with your work after school here at the mansion, and hopefully help teach you some good studying habits as well. And maybe some multitasking ones at that."

He looked pointedly at me at this, and I stared down at my shoes, embarrassed. Of course. This wasn't just about my grades. This was about keeping up in school _and _juggling my role as Robin. Great. Thanks Bruce. Go and get my crush to drill that into me.

But really, I was thankful. I'd much, much rather have Babs as a tutor than some centuries old granny who needs gigantic glasses to read the textbooks.

Carl seemed to slowly have gotten over his shock, replacing it with a look of excitement. Apparently, the idea of studying with a hot girl two years his senior appealed to him. I wonder why.

"Thanks, Mr. Wayne!" he said brightly. "When do we start?"

"How about now?" Bruce suggested, smiling.

Carl's eyes widened and he turned to Barbara.

"Sure," Babs said, shrugging. "That is, if the pair of you would stop acting like fish out of water and quit staring at me like I'm an alien from outer space."

Carl glanced at me, blushed, and quickly took a seat at the table with Barbara. At loss of what else to do, I did the same.

An awkward silence followed.

Barbara was staring at me, eyebrows raised. It was kind of creepy. With a surge of horror, I thought maybe she'd spotted the pimple on my forehead. I had tried so hard to cover it up, but it kept peeking through my hair. Big, shiny and red. Like a spotlight.

"What?" I snapped finally, her staring finally getting on my nerves. Did she have to look at The Pimple like that? I mean, I know it's bad but seriously, that's just rude.

A smile crept onto Babs's face. "Well," she said. "I can't very well tutor you if you don't have any homework for me to help you with."

My face reddened to a shade of scarlet almost as dark as my pimple. Embarrassed, I realized all my school books and homework were still in my backpack.

Which was at the front door.

Well, at least she hadn't noticed the pimple.

"I'll…I'll go get my backpack," I said faintly, before quickly exciting the room, purposely not looking at an amused Bruce. Thanks for not mentioning my backpack buddy. You're such a great mentor.

I was halfway to the front door when I noticed Carl following me.

Oh, right. He needed his backpack too.

Annnnd he probably had no idea where the front door was.

I stopped and waited for him to catch up. He was blushing as fiercely as I was, so at least I wasn't the only one who kept getting embarrassed.

I started walking again.

"Well, that went well," he muttered, matching my stride as I helped him navigate the halls of the manor.

"Yep," I said sarcastically. "That it did. I find out my crush is now my tutor and make a fool of myself in front of her. Whoopie."

Carl smirked. "Have a thing for redheads, Dick?" he jeered, elbowing me playfully.

I scowled. "Don't make me lock you into a broom closet," I threatened, wagging my finger at him. We laughed, light-heartiness returning. Thank God for Carl. I don't think I'd be able to stay sane without him.

Reaching the front door, we both snatched up our backpacks hurriedly before making our way back to the library.

Barbara was waiting patiently for us, a small smile on her beautiful red lips. "Took you long enough," she said as we took our seats.

"Wayne Manor isn't exactly small," I reminded her.

"Fair enough," she said, before turning to Bruce, who still stood quietly by the door. "I can take them from here," she said confidently, and Bruce nodded. Turning on his heel, he put his hand on the doorknob before hesitating. Grinning slightly, he turned back around.

"I'll tell Alfred to bring you guys some homemade cookies, if you like," he offered, and the three of us nodded eagerly. Smiling, he left the room.

Okay, so this _might_ not be so bad.

Clapping her hands, Barbara got to business. "So," she said briskly, putting on her cute reading glasses. "Show me what you got."

Obediently, Carl and I unzipped our bags and brought out our homework. It was a medium load today, an essay on descriptive words for English, a forty-problem worksheet for Math, plus a test in Science and History to study for. Babs looked all this over carefully, before shifting the papers and textbooks into piles. Carl and I watched her, curious.

"All right," she said when she had finished. "We'll do each piece of homework in sections by subject. Math stuff first, then English, then History and Science. How's that sound?"

Carl and I glanced at each other. He raised an eyebrow, and I shrugged back. "All right," I said. I'd never really thought about doing my homework in sections, but whatever worked for her. As long as it pulled my grades up…and as long as it gave me time to impress her, I was okay with it.

"All righty, then." Babs said, smiling. She pushed the math piles in front of us, before walking around the other side of the table to examine our work. "Let's get started."

~O~

An hour later, Carl and I were almost finished with our homework. And despite much awkwardness and blushing, I thought this tutoring thing was going fairly well. And for the first time in a long while, I felt confident about my homework.

And, of course, Al's chocolate chunk cookies had been a bonus.

Yep. Everything was looking up for once.

That is, until Bruce came back.

"I'm afraid I must cut your tutoring session short for the day, boys," he said as he let himself in to the library briskly. He looked pointedly at me. "We have that dentist appointment of yours remember? I forgot all about it."

I stared at him. What dentist appointment? I don't remember anything about a dentist appointment.

I was about to ask when I caught on. Bruce was giving me a warning glare, as if not to say anything in front of Carl.

Of course. There was no dentist appointment.

Bat Emergency!

"Oh, right, I forgot about that too," I lied, covering up my moment of confusion. Hastily, I packed my homework up.

"Carl, I already arranged for Alfred to take you home," Bruce said. "We'll reschedule the tutoring session another day."

Carl nodded. "Okay! Thanks Mr. Wayne," he said, and started packing his stuff too.

Barbara was giving me a sideways look. Her face betrayed nothing, but there was a questioning look in her eyes. In them, I saw all the words she wanted to speak.

She wanted to know if there really was a dentist appointment, or if this was something Bat related.

Quickly, I jerked my head in a barely noticeable nod.

A small smile played on her lips, and she slid her phone out of her pocket. "Perfect timing anyway, Bruce." she said, looking at the screen before standing and slipping the cell back into her jeans. "My dad wants me home."

Bruce nodded. "Good to see you, Barbara. I'll notify you about times for the next tutoring session later."

"Okay! See ya," she said, winking at me before swiftly leaving the room.

I blushed, watching her go, her gorgeous red hair bobbing behind her as she walked…

And then Alfred walked in, cutting off my view. Dang it.

"I will take you home now, Master Carl," he said formally, taking Carl's backpack from him and leading him out of the library.

"Bye, Carl!" I yelled after him.

"Bye, Dick! See ya tomorrow!" he yelled back, and then he was gone.

I turned to Bruce. "Bat emergency?"

Bruce nodded. "Poison Ivy."

I frowned. "Must be bad if we're going out in daylight," I reasoned.

Bruce grimaced. "It's pretty bad," he confirmed. "Did Barbara get the cue?"

I nodded. "She's probably already down in the Cave waiting for us."

Bruce smiled slightly. "Then let's go."

He rushed out of the library and I quickly followed him, trotting to keep pace with his long strides.

It felt good to be on good terms with him again.

We reached the grandfather clock fairly fast, considering the size of the manor, and Bruce unceremoniously threw it open, revealing the entrance to the Cave behind it. We both hurried down the stairs. Sure enough, there was Barbara, already in uniform and tapping her foot impatiently.

"Took you guys long enough," she pointed out rudely as I rushed to grab my uniform.

"Yeah, well as I said earlier, Wayne Manor isn't exactly small," I countered, changing rapidly into my costume. Pulling the red vest over my head and quickly tying the yellow straps and buckling my utility belt, I tried not to blush. Embarrassed by Babs watching me get dressed, I went behind the Batmobile as I hurriedly pulled on my "Robin Underwear," coming back out hopping on one foot as I stuffed my shoes on.

Barbara snorted as I came around.

"What?" I said defensively.

"Oh," she sighed. "I just can't get over those pathetic Pixie Boots of yours."

"I like my Pixie Boots…" I murmured, scowling as I fastened my yellow cape around my neck and carefully applied my domino mask to my face.

Barbara opened her mouth to say something more, but at that moment Bruce appeared, fully dressed already—somehow—and with his signature scowl already plastered to his cowled face.

"Let's go," he said, hopping into the Batmobile with a graceful jump, his black cape pooling around him.

I opened my mouth, words already beginning to form on my lips, but before I could say them Batman interrupted me.

"No, you may _not_ fly the Batwing. Now get in."

I closed my yap, disappointed, before rushing to claim shotgun.

But in a rush of black and yellow, Barbara beat me, jumping in – smirking - next to Batman.

"Hey!" I yelled. "No fair!"

"I'm older," she said, sticking her tongue out at me.

Mumbling something along the lines of "I was his partner first" and "Girls," I grumpily slide into the back seat as Batman started the engine.

The Batmobile's incredibly cool to ride in.

But it is _much _cooler from the front seat.

~O~

Carl walked through the extremely confusing labyrinth that was Wayne Manor, gratefully following Alfred. He had never been here before, and the silent mansion was starting to creep him out a little.

For the need of some kind of sound, Carl tried striking up a conversation with Alfred.

"So, Dick had a dentist appointment?" he asked, bringing up the first thing that came to mind.

"It would seem so," Alfred answered, his voice revealing nothing.

Well, that was a weird answer. "Oookay…" Carl said, his eyes flickering to a cool-looking grandfather clock to his right, its pendulum swinging back and forth, back and forth.

He fell back into silence, not knowing what else to say. As they walked he let himself study some more of his surroundings, slowing as they passed through the kitchen, alive with the delicious scents of cooking. Alfred, smiling at him, let him stop and eat another cookie.

Standing in the kitchen, Alfred busying himself with a pot of stew while he ate, Carl looked at the calendar on the refrigerator curiously.

It was filled with the little white boxes of each day, things such as a party, or an important work meeting for Mr. Wayne noted in them in neat, tiny handwriting. Cocking his head slightly, Carl found today's date, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he read the notes of today.

There was only one, his and Dick's tutoring session with Barbara. No mention of a dentist appointment of any kind, not in the entire month. This seemed peculiar to Carl. Alfred did not seem the type of person who would forget such a thing, let alone forget to put it down on this well-organized little calendar.

So why wasn't it there? Had Mr. Wayne _lied_?

The thought was striking to Carl. He had never suspected Mr. Wayne of _ever_ lying, had never doubted a word the man said. But now, looking at the calendar, he recalled the look of confusion that had flickered across Dick's face briefly at the mention of the dentist appointment, as if this was the first he had ever heard of it. Of course, it was only very briefly, and Carl could have imagined it, but he could have sworn it had been there.

Why had Mr. Wayne lied? And why had Dick played along with it?

And most of all, where had they really gone, if not to the dentist?

Having noticed that Carl had finished his cookie, Alfred looked up from his cooking, and Carl quickly stopped looking at the calendar. He decided not to tell Alfred any of his suspicions, not wanting the butler to tell any of it to Mr. Wayne.

But his suspicions only grew as the kind butler finished escorting him out of the Manor to the limo that would take Carl back home. Mind whirling, he thought back on all those times Dick had left school early, or he had had to decline Carl's offer for a sleepover do to one thing or another. In fact, Carl couldn't remember ever having a sleepover with Dick. He always came up with some sort of excuse.

What was going on with Dick? What were he and Mr. Wayne hiding?

Carl couldn't come up with any reasonable answer at the moment.

But he was determined to find out.


	5. Guns, Why Did It Have To Be Guns?

**(A/N: Sooo yeah this is a longer chapter. Took me a while, cause I had to do some research. Hopefully I worded everything right. Just a note: I do not own Mug Root Beer, though I sooo wish I did! Thanks for all the reviews! Sooo close to breaking twenty! :D Enjoy!) **

Ever been exhausted? Soooo exhausted that all you want to do is close your eyes, flop down on a soft, feathery mattress, and sleep the day away?

That's how I feel right now.

Unfortunately…sleep is not an option at the moment.

Sighing as I once again fought the urge to let my heavy eyelids droop; I lazily doodled over my notebook. Science notes are so _booring. _They always give you three million words to copy down, half of it stuff you'll never use in real life, will forget about the moment you leave the classroom, and probably won't even end up on the test. And to make it doubly pointless, every single little thing mentioned in the notes…is in our science book.

Why can't we just read the chapter in the book? That way I can at least _pretend _to be reading, as well as maybe convince my science teacher that I actually care about this stupid subject.

Ugh. I hate school.

Giving up as the power point with the notes on it flipped to another slide jam-packed with tinny little words, I leaned back into my chair, staring up at the ceiling and closing my tired eyes. Exhausted, my sleep-deprived brain flickered to the events of yesterday.

Turns out what Bruce's definition of what a "bad" situation is, is my definition of a "this is really, really, _really _bad" situation.

So yeah. Basically Poison Ivy decided Wayne Industries was the center of Gotham's pollution problem. So she attacked Wayne Tower with man-eating plants, poisonous petunias…all that jazz.

Hence why Bruce needed backup.

So we drove over to the tower in the Batmobile—me in the backseat—bla bla bla. We got there, Babs and I saw the situation, and Bruce told us to stay with him.

Yeah…probably should have listened to him.

I spotted Ivy on the top of the tower, and decided that we could easily nab her without having to wade through her death-plants by simply scaling the building next to Wayne Tower and pole-vaulting or whatnot over to the top of the tower and stop her.

Bruce disagreed.

So I, being the sometimes stupid but still incredibly handsome and impulsive Boy Wonder, decided to put my own plan into action anyway.

How was I supposed to know her plants had infested that building too?

So yeah, long story short Batman bailed me out, put me in a time-out in the Car, and he and Batgirl went and stopped Ivy. I got yelled at by Bruce, laughed at and made fun of by Babs, _and _given an extra patrol hour as punishment.

And after all this, when I finally got home close to one in the morning…I had to finish my homework.

I hate my life.

So here I am, once again. Sleep deprived, bored out of my mind, and humiliated by stupid man-eating plants.

Sometimes, I really do wish I had a normal life.

_Tap tap tap. _

Startled by the sudden noise, I opened my eyes, ice flowing through my veins as I feared I might have been caught sleeping. But it was only Carl, tapping his pencil on my desk and motioning towards a small, folded up piece of notebook paper on my desk.

Curious, I picked it up and unfolded it, reading Carl's untidy scrawl.

**I'm bored.**

I smirked. You and me both, bro. I scrawled **Same **and passed the paper back to Carl.

He read it and quickly wrote something before passing it back to me.

**How was your dentist appointment?**

I frowned and an uneasy feeling began to stir in my stomach. I hated lying to Carl. He was my best bud. He was sort of like a loyal puppy. Never doubted a word I said, and never, ever lied to me. I hated keeping my secret from him…but with a mentor like Bruce, I don't have much of a choice. If I told someone our secret without his permission, I would be worse than dead.

**Fine. **I wrote, not looking at him as I passed the sheet back. A few seconds later, the paper reappeared on my desk.

**Who is your dentist anyway?**

I bit my lip, unease increasing. I had absolutely no idea what my dentist name was. It had been a couple months since I'd seen him. But I supposedly just saw him yesterday, at my "appointment." I can't just say "no idea", or Carl would become suspicious. I can't allow that.

Not able to come up with a better solution on the spur of the moment, I picked a random name and scribbled it down.

**Doctor Kisley**

Carl read the note, brow furrowing in confusion. I felt my pulse quicken. Hopefully he didn't suspect me of lying?

He passed back the note with a response, and I read it worriedly.

**I've never heard of him.**

Okay, okay. Stay calm, Grayson. You can respond to that. Just come up with a foolproof lie. Use Bruce. Yeah, he's always good to use. Rich adopted guardian.

**He's from out of town. **I wrote. **Some specialist. Bruce insisted I have the best for my teeth. Kinda stupid, really.**

I passed the note back, and Carl read it before passing it back over.

**Oh. Okay.**

I sighed inwardly in relief. Phew. Got out of that one.

The rest of class went by easily, Carl and I passed the note back and forth, talking about random things that were thankfully un-Bat conflicting. Finally, after what felt like eternity, the bell rang.

LUNCH!

Gratefully, I got up from my chair and raced out of the class with the rest of the students, finding my locker and hurriedly twirling the dial. Carl caught up with me a few seconds later, opening his own locker too, which was awesomingly next to mine. And no, I do not care if awesomingly is not a word. It should be.

"Ugh, I hate science," I complained to him as I stuffed my science materials away and pulled out my lunch. "It's sooo boring."

"Yeah," Carl agreed, his voice muffled from digging inside his own locker.

I frowned at the one-word response. This was unlike Carl. He was a complainer, and a talker. He never gave one-worded answers and he was always taking opportunities to complain. Especially when it was complaining about science, his worst class.

"You okay?" I asked. "You seem…quieter than usual."

"I'm fine," Carl's muffled response replied, after a moments' hesitation. "Just tired."

I took this in slowly. Tired. Right, _he's _tired. _He _didn't go to bed at four in the morning.

But still, nevertheless, I felt uneasy. I know I really shouldn't be, but Carl not being very talkative was worrying…even if he really was just tired.

Shrugging the feeling off, I slammed my locker shut, waiting for Carl to finish getting his stuff together. When he was done, the two of us went down to the lunchroom, lunch pails in hand.

I attempted to make conversation with him several times with no prevail, so finally I gave up, sitting down at the far lunch table in silence. He was apparently not in much of a talking mood.

I ate my delicious ham and cheese sandwich quietly, staring out into the beautiful sunny weather outside the cafeteria's window and noting how perfectly cut the ham was on my sandwich, the crust artfully and unerringly sawed off. Good old Al. Only he could make a simple ham and cheese sandwich into a work of art.

Finishing the sandwich, I moved onto my chips. Taking a long swig from my can of Mug Root Beer, I noticed Carl staring out the window listlessly, his food untouched.

Frowning, I put my Root Beer down, turning to him.

"You sure you're okay?" I asked, and he jumped at my voice.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm fine," he said. "I was just…spacing off."

I looked him over for a second longer before shrugging and continuing my lunch. He must really be tired, I guess.

A little while later, lunch ended and I threw away my garbage, grinning as the students filed out the doors for recess. Recess might be shorter than in fifth grade, but it was still awesome. Relaxation in the outdoors. I'm an outdoor kind of guy, always have been. Maybe it is because I grew up as a circus kid, I don't know. But any moment I can get, I like to spend it outside.

Joining the crowd, I started to make my way outside…until I noticed Carl was no longer with me.

Turning around, I moved against the flow, making my way back to our table. Carl was still there, fingering his uneaten PB&J sandwich.

"Hey," I said, my uneasy feeling returning. "You coming out to recess?"

"Nah," Carl said, shaking his head. "Not today. I'm not in the mood. Go on without me."

I frowned at him. Carl had never not gone to recess before. "Won't you be lonely in here? Alone?" I asked, scanning the cafeteria. There was only a few students staying in, and all of them had their heads buried in books. Carl didn't have any books with him.

"Nah, I'll be fine," Carl reassured me, even though I was unconvinced. "Go on."

I hesitated for a moment, before shrugging. "If you're sure," I said. "See you in class."

"Yeah," Carl said flatly. Worriedly, I turned and left the lunchroom. Something was up with him, but I couldn't figure out what. It isn't just fatigue…at least, I don't think so. It just didn't seem like the full explanation for his behavior.

I frowned again, angry with myself for being the partner of the World's Greatest Detective, but still unable to figure out my best friend. Some hero I am.

Sighing, I pushed the unhappy wonderings out of my head, placing my lunch box down on the curb and scanning the blacktop for something to do. A couple kids were playing basketball, a group was playing foursquare, and some girls were jumping rope. None of those three things caught my interest, so instead I sauntered around the edge of the property, by the wire fence that surrounded this part of the school.

I don't think many schools have fences like my school does, but I wouldn't feel quite as safe as I do without it. This is Gotham after all. Not that a wire fence would keep out many of the baddies that this city inhabits, but still, it's better than no fence at all.

Putting my hands in my pockets, I whistled the first tune that popped into my head. It was a catchy little thing, though I can't remember where I heard it. I whistled a few bars…but cut off abruptly as I spotted three kids walking hurriedly over to the large oak tree, laughing excitedly in undertone.

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion, stopping in my tracks. I knew those kids. Jack Caller, Jeremy Hiller and Cody Fifel. All three complete jerks. Bullies, and in the worst gang of the whole school.

Also starting to get into the wrong crowd on the streets, as I've found out through my nighttime activities.

My Robin intuition taking over, I darted over and scampered up into the oak tree in silence, taking care to not make any sound to alert them that I was there. Getting a firm grip on the wide branches, I peered down through the leaves at the three below me.

The burly eighth graders were grouping together by the fence, Jeremy lifting up the bottom wire to reveal a hole just big enough for the slightly-bigger Cody to fit through. Their quiet laughter dying down into silence, the three of them crawled underneath the fence, brushing themselves off once on the others side.

I watched in curiosity and unease as the group started to make their way away from the fence and out of my sight.

I hesitated for a moment. Should I follow them? They were definitely up to no good.

Then again…it really wasn't my problem.

Ah, who am I kidding? I'm a teenage superhero apprenticed to the World's Greatest Detective. It's my job to investigate, right?

Sighing, I made my way to the end of the branch I was perched on, diving carefully off and executing a perfect front flip, easily scaling the top of the fence. I landed in a crouch with a small thud, straightening only after I was positive I was alone.

Scanning the area, I took in my surroundings. I was in an empty parking lot, bordering the school. Across the lot were two buildings, both for lease, with a narrow alleyway in between. The only other things in the area were a few scattered old trees.

Scowling, I realized where my prey was.

What is with dodgy people and dark alleyways? It gets really old, really fast.

Darting across the parking lot with ease, I came up to the two buildings, pressing my back against the brickwork of the first building next to the alley, peering carefully inside.

Sure enough, the three jerks were there; smoking cigarettes from a ragged pack, smoke clogging the air. I held my breath, resisting the urge to cough. I will never understand smokers. Who would want to inhale smoke and damage their own perfectly healthy lungs? It's pretty stupid. Get a brain, people.

Deciding that the best way to observe this was from above, I ducked out of the alley and studied the building before me. It had quite a few small balconies, so it wasn't too hard for me to make my way up to the roof.

Once I was on top, I peered down below at the jerk heads. None of them were too bright, so I doubted any of them would ever think to look up. There was another balcony I hadn't noticed on the side wall in the alley, a little bit below me. Without hesitation, I dropped into it, bringing me another few feet closer to my targets. Getting down on my stomach, I peered down on them again, listening intently.

They simply smoked for a few minutes, and I was starting to think this might have all been a waste of time before Cody spoke.

"So, why did you bring us out here, Jack?" the slightly chubby bully asked, taking another drag on his cigarette.

"Just thought I'd show you guys somethin' interesting," Jack, the ringleader of the gang, answered with a sly grin.

I narrowed my eyes. Show them what? Drugs? Maybe a step up from cigarettes? Cigars?

"Whatcha got?" Jeremy asked, taking a step closer to Jack, eyes wide with curiosity.

Jack's smile widened. "This," he said, and pulled something out from under his shirt.

Cody and Jeremy gasped, and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Jack was holding a gun. A pistol, by the looks. Handgun. I studied it worriedly, trying to come up with its name. It popped into my head a second later, recognizing the features of the small but durable gun.

A Magnum Research SP-21 Pistol. Not a pretty gun, but can kill a man as easily as any other. I have no idea how Jack could have got his hands on a gun like that. Thinking hard, I thought back to my lessons on guns from Bruce. A SP-21 would range about…I don't know, probably five hundred dollars. Don't think many eighth graders have that kind of money.

But right now, I don't care how he got it. I just care about getting it out of his hands as fast as possible.

But how? If I were in my Robin gear, I would just jump down and kick that sucker all the way to China. But my costume is in the secret compartment in my bag back at school, and to pull a stunt like that would really raise eyebrows. These three might not be the sharpest knives in the drawer, but I think even they would become suspicious if I pull a move like that on them.

No, I need to approach this the old fashion way. Curious Dick Grayson followed the bad boys under the fence and saw them with a gun, and is going to rat them out. Or if not that, convince them it's a bad idea and to put it away, then come back and kick their butts later tonight as Robin. Jack might have a gun, but I'm positive he won't have the guts to shoot me. Even if he did…I'd like to see him try and hit me.

I felt better now that I had a plan, but I still waited in the balcony a couple minutes more, listening to their conversation.

"Where did you get it?" Cody asked, staring in awe and fear at the instrument in Jack's hand.

Yeah tell him, Jack. Where'd you get the gun? I'd so like to know.

"Can't tell you," Jack said mysteriously. I frowned. Dang, here I thought finding his source would be easy.

"Is it loaded?" Jeremy asked, reaching out his hand to touch it but hesitating before touching the barrel, as if he was scared it might bite him.

"No," Jack said, and I sighed in relief inwardly. Well, that was definitely and upside to the situation.

That is…unless there was a bullet he missed _when _it was loaded. In the barrel. I've heard stories about it before. Kids finding a gun in their garage, checking to see if it's loaded, and when they find it's not, they decide to pretend to shoot themselves. For fun, make believe. But they don't know about the bullet in the barrel, and end up killing themselves.

This could very possible turn out to be one of this situations if I don't get down there and do something. Like, right now.

Swiftly, I got to my feet, pulled myself up back onto the roof and made my way down the other side at record speeds. Dusting myself off and putting on my game face—the innocent little Grayson, scared out of his mind by the big kids with the gun, summoning up the courage to approach them— I took a big breath, and walked into the alley.

All three kids froze when they saw me, eyes wide with horror as they realized they'd been caught, and I resisted the urge to smirk.

"Grayson!" Jack exclaimed, hiding the gun behind his back quickly. "What are you doing here?"

"What are you?" I responded, making my voice quiver ever so slightly. Man, I'm good at this. I should go into the acting business. Screw super heroics', acting is my destiny. "Why do you have a gun?"

"We were just…playing," Cody said lamely.

I made a face. "Right," I said. "With a gun. It's…it's not loaded is it?"

"'Course not," Jack said nervously, hesitatingly taking out the SP-21 from behind his back. I resisted the urge to do a round house and kick it. "I'm not dumb."

Could have fooled me. "This…this is not a good idea, guys," I pressed shakily, grinning inwardly at how scared I sounded. "We…we should put that away and go back to school."

"_You _can go back," Jeremy sneered, the sudden venom in his voice surprising me. "We're not going anywhere. You shouldn't have followed us in the first place."

Jack and Cody nodded in agreement, confidence returning. Dang. I was hoping the fact I might tattletale would keep them worried.

I shook my head. "No, this isn't right," I quavered. "I…I should tell the Principal."

All three thugs looked horrified at this. There we go.

"You wouldn't," Jack hissed.

"Yes…yes I would," I said, my voice really wavering now. Man, I love acting.

"He won't if we don't let him," Jeremy sneered, and a determined, hard look came into his eyes. Uh-oh.

Jack and Cody looked at him. "What?" Cody asked dumbly.

"If the Principal finds out we had a gun out here, we'll get expelled," Jeremy said, shooting daggers at me. "But if we make him _not _tell…with some _persuasion_…no one will ever know."

Realization dawned in Jack and Cody's eyes, and I cursed inwardly. This was _not _what I wanted to happen.

"You won't tell anyone about what you saw here," Jeremy said dangerously, advancing at me. "Won't you, Grayson?"

I started to back up, not really sure what else to do, eyes focused on the gun in Jack's hand. He was smiling cruelly now, excited that he had an excuse to pound me. Gleefully, his hands were curling into fists, the hand with the gun slowly curling…the finger on the trigger moving unconsciously inward…

"Jack!" I yelled. "No!"

**BLAM!**

Too late!

Horrified, I looked at where the gun was pointed…

And sighed in relief.

The bullet was imbedded in the asphalt, making a small crater only a couple of inches from Jeremy's foot.

Jeremy whimpered, falling on his butt and scampering away from the crater, staring at the spot in uncontained fear.

Jack simply stared at the gun in horror.

"But…but I checked!" he spluttered. "I checked to make sure! It wasn't loaded!"

"Did you check the _barrel_?" I asked accusingly.

Jack stared at the gun as realization flickered in his eyes. No, apparently he did _not _check the barrel.

"We need to get out of here," Cody whimpered, staring at the gun for a second longer before taking off out of the alleyway. Jeremy followed, whimpering in fear, a second later.

Jack stayed rooted to the spot for a moment, staring fixatedly at the gun before dropping it, throwing his hands in the air like it had burned him.

"You…you won't tell anyone about this, will you Grayson?" he asked, eyeing me pleadingly.

I was tempted to say yes; yes I was going to tell because you're a stupid jerk for being dumb enough to bring a gun to school. But the look in his eyes stopped me. He was scared. Freaked, that he had actually almost shot his friend. He was a eighth grader. Not much older than me. Could I really turn him in for a stupid mistake like this and get him expelled?

Slowly, I shook my head. "As long as you don't do anything a stupid as this again, I won't tell anyone," I said truthfully. _But if you do this again, I'll beat the crap out of you._

Relief shown in Jack's eyes. "Thanks, Grayson," he said, taking off after his friends. "I owe you one!"

You owe me one. Yeah, right.

I watched him go for a moment, before turning to the fallen gun. My face twisted into that of disgust at the sight. Guns. I hate guns. In one shot, they can destroy a life - and possibly all those that are connected to that one life too. I remember when Bruce had painfully explained his parent's murder to me. How they were gunned down in front of his ten-year-old eyes. Two shots and his childhood was stripped away from him. Guns didn't kill my parents, but people who used them killed them. I will never stop hating guns. If anything, I'll probably grow to despise them even more.

Hatred for the instrument flowing through my veins, I took off my shirt and methodically wrapped it around my hand. Carefully, I picked up the gun, went over to the nearest garbage can, and threw it inside. Don't want my fingerprints on it, but also don't want it sitting there for anyone to find.

Satisfied that the gun was where it belonged, I put my shirt back on and turned to walk back to school.

Looks like I was going to be late for class.


	6. Gym Class

**(A/N: Helloo everybody! Sorry for not updating in so long, I don't really have an excuse. I'm hoping to be better on that and I'm also planning on editing this story a bit, since the first few chapters are an example of my writing from a while ago and I'm in the process of editing and making said writing more up to my current skill level. Once again, sorry for the delay and thanks to all that have stuck with me and reviewed! It means a lot. Enjoy!)**

The week following the incident in the alleyway was rather uneventful. The school year was now almost officially halfway over, and I was extremely proud to note that my grades were actually pretty decent. Not stellar—not straight A+'s or anything like that—but still, decent. Babs is certainly one awesome tutor—and that is coming from a student standpoint, not a friend's point of view.

I don't want to jinx it or anything, so I won't say it out loud, but I _do _think that things are definitely looking up. Everything has been about as good as it can get, really. Bruce has been bearable and hasn't gone on one of his obsessed three-days-without-sleeping rampages, or whatever it can be called. My grades are doing all right, I have a hot redhead that knows my secret as my tutor and nighttime patrol partner, and Carl and I have been hanging out a lot more.

I really, really hope nothing happens that'll screw it all up.

But then again, that might be too much to hope for.

So might as well enjoy it while it lasts, right?

So enjoy it I did. Walking into the school on Monday after Alfred dropped me off; I was in an actually really good mood. Still fairly tired, but not overly so, considering what time I got to bed last night. Morning, actually. I felt pretty ready for my math test today, and I figured I would actually be able to focus well enough in my classes.

It was going to be a good day. I was absolutely sure of it.

The first period bell went off as I reached my locker, warning me that I had only seven minutes to get to my first class of the day. For me, it was English. I couldn't help but smile as I stuffed the books I didn't need yet into my locker and closed it, re-locking my lock and twirling the com a little.

I wasn't a fan of English, but that was at least one of the three classes I had with Carl.

Shouldering my backpack, I made my way into the flow of students heading to first period and moved in the direction of my English classroom. I reached it with time to spare and slipped inside, finding my seat and sitting down.

People were still filing in and kids were all over the place, sitting on top of the desks and chatting with one another, throwing paper airplanes and sending quick texts before the start of class. I smiled at the normality of it all. Not saying I like school—far from it—but I don't mind the everyday predictability of it. At least it was something I could count on being consistent and ordinary everyday-unlike, it seems, most things in my life are.

"Yo Grayson! My man!"

I turned around in my seat to see Carl bounding toward me, all smiles. I do not know where that kid gets all his energy but boy does he have it. I don't want to _know_ what would happen if he got his hand on a can of Monster. I would not want to be present for the result.

"Hey, Carl," I greeted him, smiling. "S'up?"

"Not much," he said, sitting on the top of the desk adjacent to me and dangling his feet over the side. "Keeping myself sane. Can you believe it? School's halfway done already!"

"I know right?" I said, laughing. "Halfway to summer."

"And halfway to being done with sixth grade," Carl said, raising an eyebrow. "We won't be the little tykes anymore. We'll be big time seventh graders!"

"Yeah…" I said. I hadn't thought much of that. "And then we can look down on all the incoming sixth graders!"

Carl grinned. "That'll be fun," he said. He glanced out the window for a moment, his smile fading somewhat.

"Hey, Dick," he said slowly, looking back at me. "Can ask you something?"

I frowned at his seriousness. That was unlike Carl. "Yeah, shoot," I said.

Carl opened his mouth to ask—

But at that moment the bell rang and our teacher, Miss. Doppler, entered the classroom.

"All right, everybody take their seats!" she hollered, and everyone clambered to find there desks.

"Ask me later, okay man?" I whispered to Carl.

Carl frowned, looking unhappy, but he nodded and rushed toward his seat.

I watched him go, brow furrowed, wondering what he had been about to ask me. What was bothering him so much that he would look so troubled? Everything had been great between us, and nothing in school seemed to have gone wrong. Our tutoring sessions together had all been wonderful, and both our grades have been awesome…what could…?

I felt my blood turn to ice as a thought hit me.

It couldn't be anything Bat related…could it?

Carl didn't know _anything _about me being Robin. Bruce had made that very clear: NO one knows about our secret. At least not without his permission. I was strictly not allowed to tell, and I knew what the consequences would be if I disobeyed.

An angry Batman is not a _good _Batman.

I hadn't let on anything to Carl. I was sure of it. I had been as careful as careful can be. He couldn't be suspicious of my double life, could he? I bit my lip, worried. Carl is my friend and I trust him. But I don't know what would happen if he was armed with that kind of information. I would need to make him swear not to tell anyone…but before I could do that, I would have to make sure he even knew, without telling him the secret, in case I was wrong with this entire assessment and he doesn't know it at all, and—

"What do you think, Mr. Grayson?"

I snapped out of my thoughts fast, looking up at Mrs. Doppler.

"Huh, wha?"

The class laughed and I blushed. Miss. Doppler raised an eyebrow somewhat sternly, though she was smiling a little. She was one of the few teachers in the school I actually liked. She was actually nice—something I could not say for all my other teachers. Listening to most of my teachers was like having to listen to the Penguin monologue. (Incredibly boring. You have no idea.)

"Have you been paying attention Mr. Grayson?" Miss. Doppler asked kindly.

"Uh…not really," I admitted, running a hand through my hair.

"Well, then," Miss. Doppler said. "Who can explain to Mr. Grayson what we were discussing?" 

No one raised their hand, and I let out a sigh of relief. Maybe if no one answered, I'd be off the hook.

Then—as if to spite me, the little demon child—Carl raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Sampson," Miss. Doppler called on him.

Carl smiled at her. "We were discussing adverbs, and the different things that they can modify in a sentence."

"Correct," Miss. Doppler said, smiling at him before turning back to me. "Now, Mr. Grayson," she said, and I groaned inwardly. "My question was: what does an adverb modify?" 

"A verb?" I guessed.

Miss. Doppler nodded. "Correct. And?" 

"Um…" I hesitated, biting my lip, straining my brain to remember Barbara's tutoring session the night before. "Other adverbs?"

"Also correct," Miss. Doppler said, smiling. "Very good, maybe you were paying attention somewhat after all."

She moved on, reviewing some more material we had learned the day before. I slumped in my seat, glad that was over. I shot daggers at Carl the rest of the class period, furious at him (though not really) for setting me up like that.

He simply grinned at me like some sort of mini Joker, smug about his little display.

I made a mental note to steal his dessert from him today at lunch as pay back, and maybe his pencil case for good measure.

~O~

The day progressed slowly but surely, and as I predicted, it was turning out to be a rather high-spirited, happy day. The water fountain decided to spray the girl who tried to drink from it after me _instead _of me, Al had packed me an egg salad sandwich—my _favorite_—for lunch, I managed to eat half of Carl's cupcake before he managed to snatch it back, and he didn't even notice me sneak his pencil case out of his backpack.

Oh, it was a good, good day.

And it was about to get even better!

As Carl and I left Science together, heading toward our lockers with goggles in hand, Carl seemed to have forgotten all about what he was going to ask me about in English, and was giddily keeping a secret from me that he was obviously _dying _to tell.

"Oh, just _tell _me already," I complained, shoving my goggles and Science binder back in my locker.

"Nope," he said. "Not gonna. I wanna see your face when you find out!" 

"Find out _what_?" I whined, giving him the show he wanted. I actually really wanted to know. What was so big that Carl actually wanted to keep the secret from me? He never kept secrets from me. He had a loud mouth when it came to telling me about something.

Carl just shook his head. "You'll see next period," he said, closing his locker.

I frowned, shutting mine as well. "Gym? What's so big about gym class?" 

Carl just grinned. "Yooouuu'll seee," he said in a singsong voice. "C'mon, let's go!" 

He took of down the hall in a speed walk (no running in the halls) and I followed him, bursting with curiosity. We took the stairs down to the gym two at a time, and I felt my anticipation grow as we made a break for the guy's locker room. Carl was ahead of me by only a couple feet, but he came to a sudden stop as we entered the locker room, causing me to run into him.

"What?" I huffed, hurriedly collecting myself.

Carl simply grinned from ear to ear. "Read the board," he said.

I frowned, but obediently looked at the notice board—a whiteboard that the gym teachers wrote what activities we were doing each day. I hardly looked at it—frankly, I never cared _what _we did in gym class; it was normally stupid anyway. But Carl always did. I just didn't see what would be so interesting that he would ask me to read—

I froze as I looked at what was scheduled for the day.

There, in the box for Monday, there were two words written in big, fat red marker.

**GYMNASTICS UNIT.**

I felt my mouth drop open and heard Carl laugh.

"See?" he said. "Toldja you'd like it!" 

"G-gymnastics?" I got out. "We're gonna do _gymnastics _in gym class today?" 

"Not just today," Carl said, pointing to the board. "The rest of the week too!"

I stared at the board for a long moment, and sure enough, everyday this week had **GYMNASTICS UNIT **written on it in the same big red marker.

I could hardly believe it. Gymnastics. Gymnastics! We were doing gymnastics in gym class! FINALLY something worthwhile! Something I was good at—no, _amazing_ at! I grew up doing gymnastics. I mean, I grew up in a circus, where half the people that worked there could do a triple flip in their sleep. Trapeze and gymnastics were second nature to me—no sweat. Even though I hadn't been in the circus since my parents died, I know I haven't lost my edge in the slightest. Being Robin has certainly kept my speed, agility and flexibility at its peak.

I'm sure I can ace anything that the gym teachers can throw at me.

Carl was still grinning madly at me. "The moment I saw it, I thought of you," he said. "You can still do it, right? All the things you learned in the circus?"

"Yeah, of course!" I said, grinning just as widely as Carl now, excitement coursing through me. I laughed. "This is going to be so awesome! I wonder what we're all gonna do? Tumbling maybe? Parallel bars? Pommel horse?"

"I dunno," Carl said. "We'll have to see. Lets hurry and get ready; we've already wasted a bunch of time."

I nodded and scurried to my gym locker, hurriedly unlocking it and throwing out my gym clothes before roughly putting them on in recorded time. I met Carl at the locker room entrance and we both sprinted for the gym, Carl roughly stuffing his glasses on as we went.

We slowed to a walk as we reached the doors of the main gym, walking in with wide eyes. I couldn't suppress a smile when I saw the gymnastics equipment strewn across the shiny gym floor. I suddenly felt like a kid in a candy shop. Three balance beams, uneven bars _and _parallel bars, tumbling mats, two vaults, and even a pair of rings strung from the ceiling. No pommel horse though. I guess very few people would have the upper body strength to be able to do that (besides me, anyway).

This was going to be way awesome.

A loud clap grabbed everyone's attention and all eyes turned to Mr. Jeustosky, the gym teacher.

"All right, everyone!" he said in a big, commanding voice, silencing all chatter. "As you've all obviously guessed, we're starting our gymnastics unit today! This will go on for a week. We're going to start with the basics and the rules, since we don't want anyone getting hurt or trying anything outside their skill level."

I couldn't help but grin a bit. A whole week of gymnastics! And forget the basics, I was a pro, I'd be able to skip all that stuff in a jiffy.

"Okay," Mr. Jeustosky said, surveying the class, which had about forty to fifty sixth graders in it. "How many people here take or have taken gymnastics before?"

Practically beaming, I raised my hand, along with about four other kids—all girls, I saw. That made my smile fade a bit. Stupid guys think that gymnastics is just a girls sport.

"Okay, so a couple of you," Mr. Jeustosky noted. "How many of those five are currently still taking gymnastics?"

I kept my hand up, even though I wasn't paying for lessons at the moment. Didn't need to, when I have a whole room of the Batcave dedicated to gymnastics and Bruce to teach me anything I don't already know. I already had a lie set up if he asked me where I was taking lessons.

Luckily, he didn't, but he did smile at me, and I noticed I was now the only kid with their hand up.

Oh, splendid. This'll be fun.

"Richard," Mr. Jeustosky said, smiling, and everyone turned to look at me. "You're taking gymnastics."

Suddenly, I found myself feeling incredibly nervous. Seriously, I can go out wearing green pixie boots and scaly underwear every night, but for suddenly I feel sweaty when a bunch of sixth graders are staring at me?

I have serious issues.

"Yeah," I said, relieved that my voice was even. "I…uh, grew up in the circus."

The truth can't hurt.

Mr. Jeustosky raised an eyebrow, as if to say 'Really?' before realization hit him.

"Ah, that's _right," _he said, smiling. "The Flying Grayson's, correct?"

I felt like I had suddenly got stabbed with a knife to the heart at the name. Sheesh, get a hold of yourself Grayson!

"Yeah, that's right," I said.

Mr. Jeustosky practically beamed. "Well then Mr. Grayson! You're practically a natural! Would you mind demonstrating the equipment for us?"

I shrugged. "Sure, why not?" I said.

"Great," Mr. Jeustosky said, smiling at me before addressing the whole class.

"All right, class," he said. "Now that we have established who has experience, it seems clear that we are going to have to do stations. I've asked various teachers to come supervise during the different class periods, so there will be a teacher at each set of equipment to spot you. I'll let you just this once pick your groups—of five or less please!—and assign you to a station. That'll be tomorrow. Today, I will explain the rules of each different type of equipment, and Mr. Grayson here will demonstrate. Understand how this is going to go down?"

Everyone nodded vigorously and Mr. Jeustosky clapped his hands again. "All right, we'll start with the balance beam," he said. "Mr. Grayson, if you please?"

I smiled and made my way toward the gym teacher, feeling excited for I think the first time ever in gym class. This was _way _too cool!

Mr. Jeustosky led the class over to the beam before turning to me. "I assume you've done the beam before?" he asked.

I nodded. The trapeze was my specialty, since that was the main circus attraction, especially with my family, but we all learned gymnastics. We mastered all the equipment the sport has to offer, even though we never did the beam at a performance.

"Great," Mr. Jeustosky said. "Why don't you show us what you've got?"

"It'd be my pleasure," I said, bowing for fun and blowing a kiss to the crowd. I heard a couple girls giggle. Bonus!

With the gracefulness that years of practice has granted me, I slipped off my gym shoes and jumped up onto the beam, balancing perfectly with one socked foot in front of the other, arms out loose but even.

"Now watch how he keeps his balance," Mr. Jeustosky said, narrating my movements. I knew I should probably block him out to keep my concentration, but I could do these sorts of tricks in my sleep and it made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside to hear his praise.

Putting my focus back on the beam, I took a deep, calming breath, before bending my knees, dividing my weight evenly on the balls of my feet. Then, without warning, I launched myself into the air, feeling my body arch as I let my back move into a C-shape, facing the beam, and put my hands out in front of me. Even though I knew it had only been a second since I jumped, everything seemed to lay out in slow motion for me. My hands came down on the beam, one in front of the other, flat on the slightly chalky surface, and once they were down firmly, I moved my body out of the curve and pulled myself into a handstand in once slick movement. In another split second, I put all my strength into my arms and pushed myself back into the air, arching my back again, the opposite way this time, and landed on the beam again, one foot in front of the other.

I didn't wobble. I didn't even bend my knees that much to help me stick the landing.

Smiling widely, I raised my hands up like an Olympic medalist, before bowing to my crowd.

Everyone clapped and I beamed at the looks of awe on their faces. I felt incredibly awake and alive; no doubt from the adrenaline that always floods my system whenever I do flips.

Did I mention how much I _love _gymnastics?

"Amazing," Mr. Jeustosky praised, smiling almost as wide as me. "You did it so fast and so effortlessly. Like you do it every day."

_I kinda do, _I thought, but simply shrugged and smiled. "Would you like me to do a couple more?" I asked.

Mr. Jeustosky waved his hands at the beam. "Knock yourself out," he said.

I frowned. "I certainly hope not," I said jokingly, with fake sincerity.

Mr. Jeustosky laughed. "Go ahead, kid," he said.

I smiled, before executing a perfect backflip, adding a double flip in midair for show. Then a cartwheel, a one-handed handstand, and a blind flip where I couldn't see the beam below me to stick the landing.

The class just stared at me in awe as I finished, doing a flip off the beam for good measure and landing lightly in front of them on the gym floor.

It was totally worth it to see their faces.

And it just kept getting better from there.

From the balance beam, we moved on to the vaults. I didn't even ask for Mr. Jeustosky's permission to go before I was off, giving myself a running start at the spring board, doing a flip onto it and feeling myself launch into the air, a laugh escaping my lips at the feel of the wind I was creating on my face. Then I came down on the beam, landed with my hands and did a handstand, before pushing myself up and doing a backflip onto the mat.

I beamed at the class's applause and whistling, before jumping off the mat and running back to the front of the vault and doing another trick without giving myself a second to breathe. This time, I ran onto the spring board normaly and did a triple flip in the air, before straddling the beam, my hands keeping me up and my legs out on either side of them, toes pointed. Then, in one fluid movement, I pushed my butt up and let my legs move up into another handstand, this time moving my legs out into the splits, before pushing up with my hands and twirling my legs around in midair like a pinwheel, snapping my legs together and becoming upright just a split second before I hit the mat.

As I jogged back to the class, they all stared at me with wide eyes and slacked jaws.

"Fantastic," Mr. Jeustosky whispered in awe. "You learned all that at the circus?"

_Most of it. _"Yeah," I said, slightly winded from the physical exertion. Despite myself, I was sweating. I ran a hand through my untidy hair, moving it out of my face. "It took a _lot _of practice though."

Mr. Jeustosky seemed at loss for words. Instead of speaking, he simply gestured toward the rings.

I grinned wide, my eyes sparkling.

Oh boy, was this too fun.

HOLY GYMNASTICS, BATMAN! HAHA!

~O~

Quite of few tricks later, I was back in the locker room, changing out of my gym uniform and sweating a _lot. _

I had received all sorts of compliments as class had been dismissed—even from some jocks that had never spoken to me in my life.

I felt like a superstar. That was me. Dick Grayson, the Gymnastics Wonder.

Thank you whoever thought of the gymnastics unit!

I stand by what I said earlier. Today was a good day.

I met Carl outside the locker room a few minutes later. He was still smiling like he had been before, but with more awe than earlier.

"Dude, that was totally _wicked,_" he said, punching me lightly on the shoulder. "I knew you were good but not _that _good! You're, like—Olympic material, man!"

I laughed. Somehow, I didn't see the Olympics in my future—but then again, who knows?

"I don't know about _that,_" I said. "We'll see."

"Still," Carl said. "That was pretty amazing. Did you see the look on everyone's faces? I wish _I _could do that. I'm the least flexible person in the whole universe."

I grinned. "We'll see about that," I said, punching him back lightly. "Maybe all you need is the right teacher. Like, maybe…I don't know…_moi?_"

Carl grinned at me, eyes shining. "Are you for real?"

"Have I ever lied to you?" I asked.

Carl pretended to be thoughtful about it. "Well…"

"Hey!" I said, fakely hurt.

He smirked. "Just kidding," he laughed. "I'd be honored to have you teach me, Richard Grayson of the Flying Grayson's. Can I have your autograph as well?"

"Oh stop it," I said, rolling my eyes. "You're making me blush."

He laughed and we said our quick 'later's before going our separate ways to our next class.

I grinned the whole way.

Today was a good day.


End file.
